Play With Fire

I’ll drink with angels

I’ll play with fire

Take my November

Just leave me desire

I want to

But I don’t

I shouldn’t

And I won’t

I’m taken with the fire

It’s seething and spitting

And yet it’s pulling me closer

Sighing and hissing

Tastes of forever

Sweeter than candy

Finer and drunker

Than the finest of brandy

And I want to,

But I don’t

I know I shouldn’t

So I won’t

I’ll banish those angels

I’ll quench the fires

I’ll be reborn in November

Just leave me desire

The Atonement

It’s been 2,000 years since we’ve been sedated
Mouths full of slander
Hearts filled with hate
Dug our own graves in sin
And awaited our inevitable fate

With our swords drawn, we fell to our knees
Alone but united in war
Growing armor over eyes
Growing colder than before

Our eyes were open
But we did not see
We seemed to be breathing
But our hearts did not beat/

On the twenty third of December
The skies cried out in thunder
Car breaks slammed to a halt
Disturbing the peace of our slumber

It was G-d’s cry
He broke our silence
Out of small people
He made giants

What kind of instrument
Could measure the way the broken heart races
What kind of artist
Could paint the terror on our faces

Who can encourage hope
But the witnesses of this crime
Who can mend this wound
But G-d and the miracle of time

Our eyes are closed
But now we can see
Our hearts have lost the facades
So now it can beat

Don’t be scared
We don’t stand alone
We’ve awoken our souls
We’ve finally atoned

Fairies Aren't Real

"Daddy, do we believe in magic?"

She asked,

Oh the magic of a kid,

There was this innocence in her eyes,

That made him almost wish he did

But fairies aren’t real,

And unicorns are myths,

So he told her, matter of fact,

“Magic does not exist“

Her face fell, and kept falling,
In her eye was a tear

And it spilled down her cheeks

Like a crystal chandelier

“But why not, Daddy?”

She pled, holding onto her father,

“Can’t there be just a little magic,

So my sister could get better?"

Stunned,

The blood drained from his face,

He could make no move or sound,

It was as if she reached into his chest,

And turned his heart around,

"The truth is,” he said

The brims of his eyes were full,

"I suppose we do believe in magic,

But we call our charms, ‘miracles‘..."

My Psalms Scream

I fear not my flaws. I fear not my end of days.
It’s of my incredible strength, that I am most afraid.

I’m in love with my angels. With my evils and foes.
Could I fall head over heels with the person they created. I think so.

But it’s also something else. My heart soars. My Psalms scream.
It’s not the things that bind me to this earth; it’s my ability to dream.

I fear not my flaws. I fear not my end of days.
It’s of my incredible strength, that I am most afraid.

Some have greatness inborn, for some it’s fate.
But it’s of my belief, that we are all great.

Crazy To Believe

They say it’s over. They've turned out the lights and drunk themselves to bed.
They say she’s crazy to believe. That she should anticipate the end instead.

She doesn’t. It’s wild. In her heart. She still believes.
She still holds the lifeless hand of her friend who’s still asleep.

They say the lives that were taken, were just a casualty of war.
They turn tears to dust, turning their faces from the horror.

He lives in a war zone, his bravery is written in the creases on his face.
His windows bare witness, to the demons he’s chased away.

They say redemption is absurd, they claim we’ve been forsaken.
They call themselves indifferent, when deep inside they’re aching.

They are aching. Aren’t they. Don’t they ache for something real.
Don’t their words feel cold, even for people who don't feel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTM3lRbdZUk

If G-d Had Eyes

In memory of the heroes who stared G-d straight in the eye.

If G-d had eyes.

What would He see.

Would He see goodness in blood.

Or darkness like me.

If G-d had lips.

Would He cry with His sons.

If His daughters could see Him.

Would He let His tears come.

If G-d had a head.

Would He hang it in shame.

Would He regret what He’s done.

Or would He call it a game.

If G-d had ears.

I’d give voice to my angst.

Even my silence would scream.

And the Heavens would shake.

If G-d had a face.

I’d do nothing but glare.

If truth spilled from evil.

I’d believe He was there.

If G-d has a heart.

Let it be aching.

If thousands have shook.

Trust His is breaking.

Gods of Self-Deception

Maybe you’re invisible. Maybe your vanishing act was caste.
Maybe you’re a ghost in your own home, a stranger moving by too fast.

Maybe every torch you’ve lit extinguished. And maybe no one’s ever cared.
Maybe you’ve disappeared in the eyes of the world. Maybe you were never even there.

No. Each breath you take is given. Each move you make is watched.
The slightest contraction of the chest is whispered, granted to beat and permitted to throb.

So maybe you’ve got holes. Vibrant flaws that scream and sear.
Maybe the condescending whistles really are, the only things you hear.

Maybe you’ve been begging. But no one’s let you in.
Maybe you’ve been playing this game forever. But He’s never let you win.

Still every fall is measured. Every scar you’ve razorred, mapped.
Every hurt has been determined. Every tear that's fallen, kept.

Every smile is carved and painted. Each cry you sound, composed. Every
lump in your throat, created. And the gun in your hand exposed.

So maybe you really are just as small as you imagine. Become a servant to perfection.
Maybe you’re really nothing but you’re image. Fallen to the gods of self-deception.

No. Every tear you’ve shed’s been counted. Every word you uttered, framed. Every thought you’ve thought is written. For, every moment G-d repeats your name.

To Kill a Scorpion

To kill a scorpion,
Might thaw the venom in your veins.
And maybe revive the desire to play,
With the God we caste away.

First revel in the chase.
Then the comedown from the high.
Lace your fingers in the clouds.
And peel down the sky.

The culmination of the world,
Is jumping off the edge.
You’re never high enough,
If you’re still clutching on the ledge.

So first revel in the chase.
Then the comedown from the high.
Lace your fingers in the clouds.
And peel down the sky.

***

Cheshvan’s astronomical sign is Scorpio. Scorpions are cold-blooded, and symbolize indifference. Apathy. The challenge of Cheshvan is to revive our desire to serve G-d. To soar the G-dly skies.

The very purpose for soaring is, contrast to popular belief, the comedown afterwards. To drag the G-dliness from your trip down with you as you fall back down.

If you’ve been soaring and are still looking for a spiritual high, you are not high enough; you need to fly some more.

The sign that you’ve achieved G-d is that you’re ready to fall again.

***

If you don't truly understand the above...I hardly do either.

Taste of Forbidden

***

They said, rebellion’s in our blood. The lure for forbidden pumping through our veins.
Its breath so close, you can hear it breathe. Only a whisper away.

I swore I could unlock my soul at anytime. I swore it didn’t matter.
I swore selling myself wasn’t a crime. I believed I was too strong to shatter.

They taught me the art of hurting, the people I loved most.
I learned to silence the guilt with a smile and a toast.

But the taste was ever recurrent. I could always taste it on my tongue.
I could taste the difference between good and bad. The flavor between right and wrong.

Every year I’d promise. And every year I’d break.
Every year I’d bow to sin and then call those sins mistakes.

Now I have to wonder. As I pray. And the shadows run by fast.
If I put a finger to my lips, could I fool the demons of the past.

And still waters run so deep; could I ever really forget.
Could I erase the memories, one by one, numb them with regret

When it’s all over, I won’t ask, will my sins be lost and snuffed.
When the dust settles. The question will be: will forgiveness be enough.

.

Sundaes & Rock

I like ice cream sundaes
And nighttime in the park
I like cherry slurpees
And rooftops after dark

I love speeding on side streets
And cranking up the bass
I like Britney Spears
And bands like 3 Days Grace

I'm the type of girl
Who wears boots even when it's hot
All those things you think I am
Are all the things I'm not

My favorite song
Is The Little Bird Is Calling
Secretly I'm in love
With the initial sense of falling

I love karaoke
Even though I can't sing
I love running in circles
Redbull gives me wings

I love being a kid
I dream of Never-Never
If I could, I totally would
I'd be seventeen forever